Devil's Child
by Shadowrose89
Summary: Begins 9 years after Erik escapes the gypsy fair. A strange girl has arrived at the Opera with connections to Erik's tragic past. Mostly movie based, hints of Leroux. EOC
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I do not own any of the characters from phantom of the opera**_

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Natalie shut the heavy metal lattice and slumped to the cold stone floor, barely daring to breathe. She sat paralyzed in fear, listening intently, but could hear nothing apart from the steady drip of rainwater falling from her soaked garment. The beat seemed to crescendo in the calming silence until it filled the woman's mind blocking out thoughts of the horrific events of the previous days, and then darkness took her. 

Antoinette Giry could not help smiling as she followed the maze of halls towards the Opera's small chapel. Richard had suggested they meet there for a quick prayer, and leave for the park before things got hectic. The two had been courting for nearly two years, and still their love grew every day. Antoinette quickened her pace, lifting her white lacy skirt, so that the hem did not drag across the floor. She reached the chapel precisely on time, prepared to wait for Richard who was seldom punctual.

Few things surprised Antoinette, for she had seen and experienced far more than most others her age. Nevertheless, she was somewhat startled to see the figure of a young woman crumpled beneath the chapel's window. Antoinette hurried to the girl's side. She was soaking wet and cold to the touch, with bruises painted up and down her arms as well as on her face. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow but regular.

Curiously, Antoinette did not recognize her face from the Opera's staff, but when she saw that the window had not been latched shut she suddenly realized why the girl was soaking wet. The window to the chapel was raised only a few feet above the adjacent ally, which still contained numerous puddles from the night's heavy rain. Antoinette could not help but think of the last time someone sought shelter from the cold, cruel world through the exact same window.

"Antoinette! What's going on here? Is she alright?" Richard interrupted her train of thought.

"I think she's going to be fine, but right now she needs medical attention. Let's take her to Marie." Antoinette replied urgently. Richard nodded as he lifted the unconscious girl and followed Antoinette towards the Opera's clinic.

"What happened to her?" Marie questioned automatically when she laid her eyes upon the bruised body stretched out on the cot before her. The couple indicated that they were not aware and the old nurse sent Richard from the room so that she and Antoinette could remove the unconscious girl's damp clothes. They then dressed her in clean spare garments and layered blankets over her.

Marie sighed, "Her injuries seem to be entirely superficial. I will check to make sure she has no internal injury or broken bone, but the bruises will heal with time." Antoinette thanked her, and offered to assist Marie during her day off. Marie shook her head; "I have this completely under control. I am sure you wouldn't want to disappoint that young man outside. Besides I have my own assistants if I need them." She smiled encouragingly at Antoinette, and the young woman reluctantly left.

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Antoinette enjoyed her day off with Richard, but held the event of that morning in the back of her mind throughout the day. When she returned she bathed and dressed for bed, she sat combing her long dark locks out she heard a polite knock, but not from the door. She turned in the seat and spoke, "Come in." She was not perturbed in the slightest as a man seemed to form from the shadows. Erik stood before her, or as he now preferred to be called, the Phantom.

It had been nine years since Antoinette had helped Erik escape from the gypsy fair where he had been cruelly exhibited as a sideshow freak, "The Devil's Child." She had brought the thin and abused boy to the Opera house where she had done her best to take care of and hide him. He had grown in the cellars of the world's very heart of the arts and seemed to have absorbed all it genius, and brought to it much of his own.

"How was your date, Mademoiselle?" Erik asked cordially.

"Lovely, thank you," she responded, "Erik, a young woman arrived at the Opera today."

"I care little for the comings and goings of the countless ladies of this establishment, Antoinette, unless she has considerable talent, or might be fit to replace our late Prima Donna.

"I know nothing of her abilities, but I think, rather, she is seeking refuge, much like you once did. I found her unconscious and hurt beneath the very same window I snuck you into so many years ago."

Erik's face was all indifference; "I take it you got her to the clinic? Then I'm sure she will figure little in the future. Ah, the future, Mademoiselle, is what I wish to discuss! You know of my exploits of late. I have made my presence known, and the superstitious of this place have named me. I am the Opera Ghost, a title I am thrilled to bear. However, the management has completely ignored all the curious incidents, and thinks nothing of me. This, my dear, with your help of course, will soon change."


	2. Chapter 2

Natalie came to life with a low moan. Her muscles ached, and she felt slightly nauseous, but she was warm and as comfortable as she could hope to be. She looked around and found herself to be in a clinic of some sort, cots lined against one wall with basic medical supplies stored on shelves on the opposite wall. A silver haired woman sat dozing in a chair nearby. Natalie decided against waking her; curiosity could wait. Meanwhile, The young woman contemplated her situation. She felt safe here, but knew it was temporary.

Leaving Paris, though scary, seemed to be the best option. She had often traveled when she was very young, but had not left the city since the age of seven. She wondered where she was now. She wondered if she was correct in thinking the window she had climbed in had belonged to the Opera house. If so, was she still there? She glanced back at the sleeping woman, but saw only an empty chair. Soon a girl who looked to be only slightly older than herself entered. The girl's dark blue eyes sought out Natalie's nearly black ones.

Antoinette approached the girl with a warm smile, holding out her hand, "I'm glad to see you are recovering! My name is Antoinette Giry. There's no need to tell me how you ended up in the chapel if you don't wish to, but if I can assist you in any way please let me know."

"Thank you so much Mademoiselle, you are too kind. My name is Natalie. May I ask where I presently am?"

"Please call me Antoinette, and you are in the clinic of the Opera Populair."

Natalie's eyes seemed to light up momentarily, but then it was gone, "I will leave soon, I do not wish to impose on the hospitality of everyone here."

Antoinette had not missed the girl's hidden enthusiasm for the Opera and quickly offered, "Why not take a job here, if you are in need of one that is. There are usually openings of one kind or another."

Natalie offered a rueful smile, "I really wish I could be a part of the Opera. Working here would be more than I ever hoped for, but I'm sure you've realized that the injuries I've sustained were hardly an accident. I think I must leave the city." Natalie could not hide the misery this was causing her. Tears were starting to form from fear and from being forced to give up what she saw as the opportunity of a lifetime.

Antoinette bit her lip, "Natalie, I do not think it would be wise for you to go off alone into the country. Please stay here. Paris is full of people, and this enormous building and staff are sure to keep you hidden from whoever hurt you. I've known many to find refuge here."

Natalie, already extremely tempted to stay, was completely persuaded by Antoinette's encouraging words. She realized sadly that she would not be singing, no she would never go on stage to be seen, but at least she could be a part of each masterpiece in whatever small way they would allow.

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"I delivered the letter to them, Erik. The managers will not so easily give into extortion. I know you don't have the means to purchase all the things you want, but th..."

Erik interrupted with a smooth reply, "Extortion? I am not, my dear, engaging in any such thing. I am simply asking for a salary. A man wishes to receive wages for his work does he not? I have improved this Opera tremendously and intend to continue to do so, and I wish only for a modest compensation."

Antoinette snorted, she hardly considered 20,000 francs a month "modest". Erik scowled, but then regained his composure; "In any case, you need not concern yourself with it. They will give me my salary or suffer the consequences. I have put so much of myself into this Opera and it has so instilled itself in me that we are now one and the same. The Opera belongs to me and I shall see that it is taken care of."

"I won't be delivering any more of your letters, Erik," Antoinette whispered, disturbed.

"Do you not hold the same loyalty for me that I hold for you, Antoinette?" the Phantom asked rather sadly, "I will not ask it of you again then. Thank you for your assistance, limited though it may have been."

As he disappeared into the darkness, Antoinette's eyes focused on the dresser. A box of her favorite candies had been left there. They were a thank you gift, she hoped, and not a parting gift. Antoinette felt a motherly responsibility for the boy's actions. She feared, not for him, but for the rest of the Opera, what would happen once she had no control over him whatsoever. Suddenly she realized: she no longer had any control over the boy, no, the man.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: I took the liberty of slightly changing the events at the traveling gypsy fair. This will come into play later in the story. _**

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_9 years before: _

Antoinette watched in stunned horror as the disgusting, barbaric man mercilessly beat the small, dirty body struggling in the hay. A body that was, seemingly, without a face, for a coarse sack with roughly made holes for the eyes covered the "Devil Child's" head. Surely this disgusting display of cruelty was not the very attraction that had earned this fair it's fame? Antoinette could see suffering anytime she wished; she did not have to pay money, but simply to walk the city streets where the impoverished lay starving and cold.

But the appeal of this attraction became obvious much to soon. The boy's heroic struggle lost, he found his sack forcefully wrenched from his head. His shame was nearly as palpable as his anger as the gypsy yanked his head back by the scraggily hair, throwing his horribly deformed face into the gloomy light of the oil lamps. With a hideous cackle, the Gypsy man announced, "The Devil's Child!"

Antoinette could not laugh as all the others did at the gruesome face before them. Instead, she felt sick to her stomach at the injustice of it, and at the suffering this boy, who could not be any older than ten, had endured likely since the day he was born. She found herself pitying the poor creature, while loathing his captor and the audience that gathered at her shoulders jeering, through a few of them were her fellow dancers.

The sick feeling did not leave. The young dancer could not enjoy herself at all, as she wandered through the rest of the tents. Antoinette could not shake her sense of injustice, and was desperately wishing she had never come. Just as Antoinette's friends had decided that they could all leave, the laughs that filled the night air suddenly turned to screams. The night was gradually illuminated by bright orange flames, which swiftly flowed from one cloth tent to the next, licking merrily at the wooden beams supporting them. Antoinette instinctively ran towards the tent of the "Devil's Child", abandoning her friends who had hastily exited the fair.

She immediately spotted the ragged sack suspended on the wiry frame, which rapidly carried it into the shadows. The child was being pursued by several gypsy folk, so Antoinette put her strong ballet legs into use. She circumvented the wooden fence that the child had been sprinting towards and caught his arm just as he tumbled over it. She could not tell if the boy could see her or not through the dark holes of the sack, but she set her face with the most sincere expression as she released his arm, and said, clearly but quietly, "Follow me." Antoinette darted through the back allies of Paris towards the Opera house, and to her surprise, the child followed.

Anoinette did not know what had possessed her to lead the child back to her home, The Opera Populaire, but now she realized the place was an ideal hiding spot. The place had five different basements with only the top couple ever getting much use at all. The bottom level included a lake of sorts to which the child was instantly drawn. Antoinatte did not think it was healthy for him to remain in the cold damp earth, but the boy would not be swayed and quickly set up a humble collection of items in a lakeside cavern he seemed to consider his home.

The cave could not be reached except by a small raft of the boy's own making, and so Antoinette, having little faith in the make-shift boat, was not disappointed that he never invited her to his home. Just as she was not disappointed that he never revealed his face to her again. The child was very secretive from the beginning, but Antoinette taught him manners and he would often engage in polite conversation with her. Some of the most revealing words he shared with her were on the night they met.

"What is your name?" he had whispered once they huddled safely in the belly of the opera house, their breath slowly returning to them.

"Antoinette Giry. What is yours?"

"I haven't a name," he said in a cold voice. "Should they ever refer to me, I am nothing more than the 'devil's child'," he spat bitterly, "or, to save time, 'it'."

"I will have to come up with a name myself then," Antoinette mused.

After an eternity of silence between them, the boy spoke in a voice unexpectedly soft and gentle, "You may call me Erik."

As Anoinette put Erik to bed that night, layered in quilts and blankets in the seldom used storage room, he murmured more to himself than to her, "Pity is the most I can ever hope for. You saved me out of pity, but you could never bring yourself to love me. My mother showed me neither. One person, I believe has loved me, but she never laid her eyes upon the ugliness of my face."

Only slightly more experienced at the age of fourteen, Antoinette did not respond to these words, much too dark, and much too deep for a ten year old. She could not offer any rebuttal: afterall, perhaps the child was right.


	4. Chapter 4

The ballet girls scampered from the stage, grace and dignity forgotten as the ballet mistress released them from four grueling hours of practice. Antoinette remained behind, and approached the dark haired girl who watched from the offstage shadows. "I've finished my work for the day," Natalie explained, "You are very talented."

"Thank you very much. I just wanted to make sure everything has been working out for you, Natalie."

"Yes, I love working here; it's very exciting. Thank you for setting me up with the costume people, cutting and sewing such fine fabric hardly seems like work," The girls face was lit with a sincere and winsome smile.

"I'm glad to hear it's working out," Antoinette replied, returning the smile. She invited Natalie to tea, but the girl politely refused. As Antoinette exited the theater, she turned and looked back at the latest addition to the opera staff, but she had disappeared from sight.

Natalie climbed the ladder to the catwalk above the stage and hung her legs off the edge. She knew the auditions for opera diva were to be held soon, and she didn't want to be hassled out of the theater by the management. This was what Natalie had been most excited about, hearing some of the greatest voices in Europe, and from the best, and most concealed seat in the house. Natalie took another look, and decided to go further up into the darkness, where there would be no chance of someone spotting her and sending her away. There was no one else in the catwalks, and Natalie climbed freely through the maze of suspended boards and ropes as if it was her own little world. Her black dress and stockings made her almost invisible in the shadows.

Natalie sat quietly waiting for the singers to arrive, but before they did something else caught her attention. As she sat motionless in the dark, a shadow seemed to move stealthily past her, onto the catwalk about ten feet in front of and a little below the one upon which she sat. This man was also dressed entirely in black, and had black hair, but she could not see his face as he looked at the stage. The man stood like a statue, the cape he wore sometimes making slight movements from the drafts. Natalie was curious but not alarmed; she supposed he was there to enjoy the singers too.

Together they waited patiently for the singers, although Erik remained unaware of any presence save his own. The prospective divas arrived together, escorted by the pompous managers of the opera house. One by one they mounted the stage and let their voices fly upon the ears of the managers and staff. Some were humble artists trying to rise from the Opera's own chorus, some were like imperious peacocks. Natalie listened to each voice with fascination. Her favorite was a petite little instrument with short blonde hair. Her voice was sweet and ethereal, but she could use some training. Natalie secretly knew she was capable of out singing several of these women. Natalie credited her abilities to the teacher she had had as a child whom she believed could have transformed a crow into a nightingale.

As the last girl completed her audition, Natalie turned her attention to the dark figure before her. He seemed to be furiously scribbling something. Then he sealed it in an envelope and let it drop to the stage in plain view of everyone. He glided down the catwalk and disappeared into the shadows. Natalie watched the drama unfold before her. Half of those below had seen the envelope fall, but they either didn't care or were pretending not to notice. The girls trickled out with assurances they would be sent the results of the audition. Once everyone had left except the managers and the hidden seamstress in the upper catwalks, one of the managers climbed onto the stage and snatched the letter from the floorboards. Ripping it open ferociously, he then began to read aloud:

"Dear M. Debienne and M. Poligny,

Having seen the best you could offer in the way of prima donnas, I must encourage you to choose Mademoiselle Dupont. She still requires MUCH training, but she seems to have the most talent. That is if you find you cannot entice the famous Madame Olavette to come to the Opera Populair. I have heard only the greatest praise of Olavette and not only from such dunderheads as sang the praises of your previous prima donna.

Also, gentlemen, you are finding yourself in debt to me over more than my excellent advice. A man cannot sit back and work for nothing, can he? If you do not pay me the salary you owe me, you shall find exactly what kind of discomforts a ghost can bestow upon such an establishment. Deliver it to me in the method discussed by the end of the month, or you shall surely regret it.

Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,

Opera Ghost"

The man holding the letter had turned quite red. "Extortion, Poligny! AND he's trying to tell us how to do our job!" he fumed as he left the stage, "We have a madman on our hands sir! Ghost indeed!" Poligny agreed, but he looked tired and said little as the two men exited the theater together. Natalie climbed carefully down from her perch, and hurried to her own private quarters where she could count on some privacy. This opera house was much more exciting than she ever would have believed!


	5. Chapter 5

**_ A/N: I think it's about time we took a closer look at Erik... _**

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****After leaving the managers to ponder his note, the young phantom descended into the darkness from whence he had come, his lair, his home, the throne of almighty music buried beneath the Opera. Just as always, no one saw him come or go. Erik enjoyed his invisibility: being a specter afforded countless opportunities not available to the ordinary man. 

Erik had stopped by Antoinette's on his way to his lair. She had not been there. Erik would not admit to himself how much he missed her company. She had always been there for him – his only friend, and a mother of sorts. Though only slightly older than himself, Antoinette had always possessed a motherly instinct and a desire to care for others. Now nineteen, Erik hardly needed such mothering, so Antoinette had been able to focus on other important aspects of her life, Richard for example. Erik left her a short friendly note, just to have some contact with humanity.

In his lair, Erik labored on his latest, and in his opinion, greatest project. Erik was building himself an organ, right there in the basement of the opera. Erik sincerely believed he possessed the ability to do almost anything, so when he became obsessed with the idea of having an organ in his home, he did not think of it as impossible but carefully studied the craft, and planned out exactly how to make one himself. The resource he was mainly lacking was money. Soon to be corrected by the installation of his own personal salary, he thought to himself with a wicked grin.

Erik gave himself a break to have a small dinner of bread, cheese, chicken and wine he had taken the liberty of relieving some very drunk stagehands of earlier in the day. He had left them some stiff dead rats in the way of payment. Erik couldn't help sniggering a bit to himself as he thought of it. He knew the prank was childish and a bit moronic, but it had been extremely effective nonetheless. Erik used his free hand to make amusing sketches of the expressions they had made as he ate.

There were broken shards of mirror scattered across Erik's table from one violent fit of passion or another, and Erik caught glances of his own reflection as he drew. Half of Erik's face was handsome, pale from living beyond the reach of the sun, and elegantly shaped with expressive green eyes. Half of it was lifeless, a solid white mask that would never betray his emotions nor his secrets.

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Natalie could not stop thinking of the mysterious Opera Ghost. As he had left, she had glimpsed a face white as bone, and had for a moment wondered if he was indeed a spirit. However, this ghost had not looked or acted as all the Romanian ghost stories she remembered from her childhood had led her to believe. Supernatural beings did not ask for salaries, they freely took what they wanted from the living. This was a man bound by the same forces as all other men, and yet not. Through creativity, he was finding ways to be more than a man. If he was as intelligent as Natalie suspected, he would likely be able to manipulate the entire opera. If he simply had a way with words, with little supporting it, then it would only be a matter of time before he was caught. For some reason this made Natalie sad. She didn't know why, but she found herself wishing the specter luck.

She was very intrigued to see how the whole thing would play out, and so the girl kept quite about her experiences, but kept an ear open around others. It seemed there were a lot of accidents occurring around the Opera house. Most were trivial and harmless, some were not, but each had some warped sense of justice or irony about it that Natalie couldn't help but suspect were connected to her own ghost.

For example, one stagehand's brat had been picking the pockets of nearly everyone who worked in the theater. He stuck his hand in the pocket of one of the opera's burly carpenters, and pulled out a mousetrap. Three of the lad's fingers were broken, but strangely the carpenter was a shocked as the boy was. Though he felt the boy deserved what he got, he also assured everyone that he had no idea where the mousetrap had come from. Natalie privately believed the man too stupid to have staged the trick anyways, and had seen so many other odd "accidents," that her eyes were opened to exactly how much sway the "ghost" held over the place.


	6. Chapter 6

Natalie tiptoed across the dark stage. She could sense someone was near, pursuing her. The darkness thickened and she held her hands out groping blindly in the night as black as coal. A waiting trapdoor engulfed her. She fell into oblivion and found herself plunging into the underground lake she had heard about, the Phantom's lake. Something grabbed her in the dark and dragged her through the water onto the equally obscured shore. She looked up into a pair of glowing eyes. Cat's eyes reflected light, but these, these emitted an unearthly glow. She found her breath caught in her throat. They looked at each other, unmoving for hours. The light from his eyes slowly illuminated his features. His arms were crossed over his chest as he surveyed her with indeterminable expression. Then he smiled and his smile was transformed into that of a grinning skull. Suddenly before her stood an animated skeleton, that with a mad cackle began to chase her. She turned in terror, only to find herself facing the vast lake. She threw herself in, a fate seemingly better than that which followed her. But within the lake, skeletal hands grasped her and pulled her down towards her inevitable death. Natalie woke with a gasp, her heart pounding in her chest, and the night bearing down on her in it's oppressive silence. The ghost had begun to haunt her dreams.

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Antoinette had not grown especially close to Natalie (the girl tended to keep to herself), but she was still fond of the young woman. Antoinette was also naturally protective; once she had a new bird under her wing she felt responsible for it regardless of circumstances. It was both because she cared about the girl and because she cared about Erik that she had become concerned with the girl's obvious interest in the Opera Ghost. Natalie's ears were always pricked for stories of the ghost, and asked questions that led to places Antoinette knew she had no business being. This girl was no simpleton, and she was in all the more danger for it. Antoinette had considered alerting Erik to her interest, but with the way he had been behaving lately she could not determine how he would react. It was far safer to approach Natalie and discourage her in whatever way she could. The ballerina had not formulated a plan by the time she reached Natalie's door, and so she decided to play by her instincts.

Natalie's sleep had been fitful to say the least, and she had only just finished dressing when someone rapped on her door. Natalie was surprised to see Antoinette Giry waiting for her outside her room. She wore a pleasant smile, but it was obvious that something was weighing heavily on her mind. "Antoinette, how are you?" Natalie greeted her returning the smile.

"I'm doing very well. I hope I didn't disturb you. I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you were adjusting well. You look a little tired." Antoinette responded.

"Honestly, I didn't sleep very well. I suffered a rather gruesome nightmare," the girl mused distractedly.

Antoinette decided to take that opening to hit the nail on the head, "Yes, well, this place is considered to be quite haunted." Just as she expected, she instantly had Natalie's full attention.

"Isn't it odd all the ghostly accidents that have been occurring?" Natalie added, fishing for a new story.

"Yes, but surely you don't believe a word of this 'phantom of the opera' nonsense. The people who work here are extremely superstitious. Obviously such a ghost could not exist," Antoinette tried to rationalize with Natalie.

"I know that he does," Natalie stated.

"What makes you say that?" Antoinette inquired, closing the door behind her.

Natalie stood silent for a few minutes chewing her bottom lip. "I've never heard a ghost story from you Antoinette, nor gossip of any kind, so I feel I can trust you with this. Plus you're the only friend I have here. You won't believe me besides," she began choppily.

Antoinette was pleased that Natalie considered her a friend although they hadn't gotten to know each other very well yet. Antoinette vowed to remedy that.

"I've seen the ghost with my own eyes. I hid in the catwalks during the soprano rehearsal, and he came. He didn't notice me, but he dropped a note that the managers read aloud. It was signed "Opera Ghost" but he didn't look like a normal ghost. He seemed more like a person, dressed in black, and I think he wore a white mask, or his skin was very pale." Natalie wanted to confide in Antoinette in the hopes that they may grow closer. Her intention was not to expose the Phantom, for she felt she could trust Antoinette. The decision to tell her however, had been made on the spot and now Natalie feared it would not go over as well as she hoped. Antoinette's face was drawn and serious.

"Natalie," she began slowly and somberly, "If the ghost did exist, if he was a person, and he had caused all these accidents (which would be impossible of course), then he would be a very dangerous person. If you truly believe he exists, then I certainly would not go around telling people about him, or trying to find him, for that would certainly anger him."

"Oh, I know!" Natalie interjected, "I have told no one but you, and I only tell you in confidence. I certainly don't mean to send the whole opera after him!"

Antoinette nodded mutely, she could say no more without betraying Erik, though he had already betrayed himself.

"Anotinette, what's wrong?" Natalie looked at her concerned, "I know it's a frightening thought, but really he has only handed out a few well deserved punishments."

"You think that boy deserved to have his fingers broken?" Antoinette asked, surprised.

Natalie shrugged, looking guilty already for what she was about to say, "It was a little severe, but you can't deny it got the message across."

Antoinette once again could not find an adequate response. "I'm sorry, I have a date with Richard. Let's have lunch together this week," She lied quickly in order to excuse herself. Natalie watched her disappear down the hall, at loss for how to interpret her friend's strange behavior.


	7. Chapter 7

Antoinette inhaled deeply as she reached the lake. What was she doing here? What action could she possibly take to protect both of the children she had rescued? Although she knew Natalie meant no harm, Erik's discovery would ultimately be his death, and Antoinette could never allow that. She had no idea how Erik would react to the girl's knowledge however, and feared for her. The white mask gleamed in the darkness as Erik's boat approached the shore where she waited. Antoinette swallowed hard, she could not disseminate this situation on her own, and she knew that Erik would best know how to take care of it, if only his rage was not awakened.

"Antoinette!" Erik called out with boyish enthusiasm, "It has been too long!"

Antoinette smiled at his greeting, he was in an unusually good mood. This could only help.

Erik smirked at his only ally, "Those fools have finally paid me!"

She was taken aback, "Paid you? How did you convince them?"

Erik laughed, "They had no intention of paying, but were merely trying to bait me. I expected nothing else from the half-wits of course, and took my payment from right under their fat noses!"

Antoinette smiled indulgently, secretly thankful Erik had not taken any rash action to force them to pay. "You are quite clever Erik," She furthered.

Erik stared at her," What's wrong?" He asked suspiciously.

Antoinette bit her lip; it was as if he could read her mind. "Erik, you must promise me you won't do anything… rash, or well… violent," She began carefully. She knew it was useless; she could feel his anger building.

"Antoinette, tell me," Erik commanded darkly.

"You mustn't hurt anyone!" she exclaimed.

Erik looked at her abashedly, "Why would you say that Antoinette? Do you think me a monster, as the world does?" His anger was already gone, replaced by a painful sadness.

"No, Erik, of course not, but you can't deny that your methods can be quite extreme…"

At this Erik laughed coldly, "Oh yes, I've been quite extreme," he murmured sarcastically, "Now out with it! If this is so urgent that you would venture to this cold dark abyss and threaten your pristine soul by associating with the Opera Ghost, then you shouldn't delay so!" He sneered at her.

Antoinette was rather used to Erik's violent mood swings, but she could tell this was not a good time to divulge her information. "I shall tell you when you cool down," she stated calmly and turned on her heel, leaving Erik to seethe or wallow.

Erik came late in the night. He did not relish the feeling that Giry was still in charge of him, but his curiosity was getting the better of him and he regretted once again pushing away his only friend. He nursed his wounded pride by approaching her on his terms, interrupting her slumber.

Antoinette grumbled unintelligibly as she rose from her bad and lit her small oil lamp. She stared angrily at the phantom who woke her, waiting for an explanation.

Erik put an icy hand on hers. "I'm quite cool now," he said with a small smirk, enjoying her obvious annoyance.

"Like ice," she retorted, pulling her hand away. "Erik, " she sighed, " You have been careless." He raised one visible eyebrow. Antoinette continued, "A girl has seen you, and she knows what you are. I don't think she means you any harm, but she might prove dangerous to you anyways. You must be more careful!"

"Who is this girl?" He questioned carefully. When Antoinette hesitated, he sighed and added, " I swear I will not harm her physically."

"She is the girl who showed up some months ago in the chapel. She is working with costumes now. Her name is Natalie."

"I see."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Wow - I hope i'm up to snuff, cause I haven't wrote anything for enjoyment for a LONG time. I'm very sorry for leaving anyone who was enjoying this story hanging - Thank you for reading! Thank you for reviewing!  
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Antoinette's hasty departure left Natalie disappointed. Bored and lonely, she appraised herself in her small hand mirror. The bruises were gone, but some injuries could not fade so easily. She combed her thick black hair into place displaying high cheekbones and eyes like deep dark pools. This Opera Ghost business was a good distraction from the real ghosts in her life.

It was her day off, but she feared going into the streets of Paris where she might run into someone she did not wish to see. Instead, she wandered aimlessly about the opera house, chatting with others and exploring the maze of interesting rooms and halls.

When she spotted Antoinette at the end of the hallway, she almost called out to her, but then hesitated. Hadn't she claimed she was going out with Richard? Antoinette looked furtively around and Natalie hid herself quickly behind an open door perplexed by her friend's behavior. Peeking through the crack where the door hinged, Natalie's jaw dropped as she saw Antoinette trigger a hidden door at the end of the hallway and step inside. Antoinette glanced behind once more before restoring the illusion of a solid wall.

Natalie stepped cautiously back into the hallway. She approached the wall and imitated Antoinette's actions, pressing her thumbs simultaneously into certain crevices in the woodwork. To her surprise, the door actually worked. Containing her growing curiosity for a moment, Natalie made a thorough search of the hall to make sure no one saw her before entering and closing the door behind her.

She found herself in the middle of a dimly lit stairwell. She heard soft footsteps from below and convinced it was Antoinette followed them as silently as possible. She knew she was being dishonest with a friend, but Natalie felt compelled to see what Antoinette was doing that involved secret doors and lying about her plans. Natalie felt certain this was connected to her ghost mystery, and was far to excited to convince herself to abandon her deplorable spying game.

They descended farther and farther, deep beneath the earth, Natalie clinging to the faint footsteps below her. Eventually she found herself in a catacomb of sorts. The place was a mass of stone halls and she had to struggle not to lose her unknowing companion. Soon the footsteps stopped and became muted voices: one male, one female. Natalie became suddenly shy and uncertain, perhaps Antoinette was meeting Richard down here after all, or perhaps this is where he worked. Then Natalie remembered that no one traveled down this far to the fifth basement. This was where the ghost was reputed to live! The trapdoor workers told the story often enough. Men lost their courage down in this darkness, and some faced terrors supposedly worse than death.

Natalie was nearly to anxious to breathe as she silently inched forward and eased herself into a place where she could see the figures speaking. Natalie herself was completely concealed in the shadows thrown by the torches lining the cavern walls.

"No, Erik, of course not, but you can't deny that your methods can be quite extreme…"

The ghost's name was Erik? Then he spoke in the voice she thought she would never hear again and she sat in shock as first Antoinette and then the Phantom departed.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: I know I left this story sitting for a long time, but does anyone still care for it? We all know how encouraging a few reviews can be and I haven't gotten any since i resumed this. :( I know I deserve it for leaving you hanging. Thank you for reading.**_

* * *

By the time Natalie regained her composure she found herself quite alone on the shore of the Opera's underground lake. She could not remember the turns and forks Antoinette had navigated trough so easily, and quietly cursed her awful sense of direction. She had been counting on following the girl back out of this maze, but with that option no longer available, Natalie was forced to wander through the halls by herself. An uneventful half hour went by as she paced and repaced the confusing mass of corridors. She finally spotted a well-lit hall that looked particularly promising and hurried into it, only to hear a crash and feel a rush of air as a huge stone door sealed her in from behind. The rush of air had extinguished all the lights and Natalie groped forward blindly. She found that the place was not a hall at all but a rather small room and turned back to desperately work her fingers around the stone door, trying to find any trigger or weakness.

Trapped in the pitch-black room, Natalie sat sobbing in the corner. She had never been particularly afraid of the dark, but now it was playing tricks on her mind. She had no idea how much time had passed, and her body was cold and hungry. She knew this place was her tomb and cried all the more desperately for it. Her voice was already hoarse from shouting for help and weeping with regret. "Could there be a worse fate?" she asked the silent walls

--

The next morning Erik was watching over the costume designers and seamstresses, a group of people he rarely interfered with. He examined each of them, but could not find anyone that fit Natalie's description and was beginning to think the Antoinette had made a mistake when one older woman asked another, "Where on earth is Natalie this morning? These dresses have to be finished today!" Erik didn't stay to listen to the women's conjectures and gossip, but left to find the girl himself.

The room the girl supposedly slept in was also empty as were any other rooms she could have been expected to in. Erik quickly decided to stop wasting his efforts on such a wild goose chase; the girl was not exactly what he considered a threat, not yet anyways. Antoinette was not so unconcerned when he told her of it.

"She was hiding from someone, what if she is in danger?"

"She probably went out for lunch," Erik replied with disinterest.

"Perhaps, but if she doesn't show up in her room tonight, I want you to search for her again. Will you please do that for me Erik?"

Erik reluctantly agreed.

That night Erik approached the girl's room as obliged. He swore silently to himself when he found it empty. Searching for some insolent seamstress was not how he had hoped to spend his favorite hours. He momentarily considered leaving the situation as it was. The girl had discovered him and now he could be blessedly free of her, but he knew it would not be that simple. Damn Antoinette's soft spots; she would never let him rest until she was satisfied this girl was safe. The ghost grudgingly began to search each room of the Opera house. This was no small task even with his secret passageways and hidden doors. He made use of his time however, taking care of small matters along the way: a threatening note here, a morbid warning there. Hours later, Erik was forced to the conclusion that the girl was somewhere outside his domain. His promise to Antoinette fulfilled, the Phantom finally allowed himself to retire to his underground home.

Erik stalked moodily through the stone halls. A full night practically wasted on Antoinette's wishes, but Erik knew he owed her at least this much. In reality he owed her his very life, for she had, in a sense, given it to him. Erik knew his mind was on a dangerous road. All thought of life before the opera house was torture, a reminder of why he could never be part of normal society. He was a freak. His only solace laid in his solitude. When had humanity ever been kind to him? Only two of the thousands of souls he had encountered in his life had ever shown him anything but spite, fear or hatred.

Erik was so wrapped up in his self-loathing, in his self-pity, that he almost failed to notice it. The alcove had been closed. One of the ghost's many traps for unwitting travelers of the fifth basement, the alcove was designed to give the illusion of a well lit hallway, when in reality it was a small room which sealed itself once a victim entered. The trap was fairly well constructed, and not likely to close itself without cause. Erik had never caught anyone in it, for no man had ever found the courage to delve into the deepest basement where the ghost and other demons were rumored to reside. He considered leaving the individual inside to starve, but his boyish excitement and curiosity would not allow him to take such a passive route. His first victim should be one to remember, and perhaps Erik would even let him live, after traumatizing him sufficiently to ensure neither he nor any he related his experiences to would dare to venture these roads again. Erik grinned to himself as he pulled the heavy lever which opened the door and locked it into place.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: I know, I know: Natalie is playing the role of DID again, but it can't be helped! If Erik seems out of character with his indecision and overexcitement, please remember that he is quite young in this story, 19 to be exact, and not yet extremely experienced as an Opera Ghost. Hope you like it!**_

_**Oh, and just in case the chronology was confusing, Natalie's been trapped in there for about a day and a half. Remember: they didn't figure out she was missing until the day after she was trapped!**_

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Erik stood on his guard, expecting his prisoner to come rushing out immediately, but there was no hint of movement. The Phantom slowly approached the entrance, punjab in hand. He was stunned by what he saw. A young woman lay curled on the cold stone floor, breathing lightly in sleep. He had never intended, never expected to catch a woman in his lair. The torture he had planned was obviously out of the question. Erik knelt down to examine her. She was quite pretty. He blushed deeply as he realized this was as close as he had ever been to a member of the opposite sex, excluding Antoinette, who was like a mother.

Erik sighed, he was sure the poor girl had suffered enough in his tomb like trap. The best he could do would be to take her back up to the surface and hopefully she would not be stupid enough to repeat her mistake. He lifted her gently in his arms, being careful not to disturb her slumber; the last thing he needed right now was for her to regain consciousness. He quickly concluded that this was quite likely the missing seamstress. She fit Antoinette's description, and it would likely explain her wanderings in his territory. Erik would have to tell Antoinette to make sure this girl never snuck down here again.

Erik knew the basements so well that he could walk them blindfolded, which was just as well as they were often pitch dark. This allowed him to further observe the strange creature in his arms as he carried her steadily towards the surface. She was quite cold, and Erik guilty realized she was probably suffering from hypothermia. Her lips, drained of color were slightly parted and her breathing was shallow but steady. His eyes roamed over her dark hair and lovely features with a hopeless kind of hunger. He mentally shook himself: there was no point in torturing himself like this! Regardless, he couldn't look away. He had a woman in his arms, a real living woman, and he doubted he ever would again.

He glanced forlornly at the door ahead of him that would bring them to the surface, to reality, where ghosts are just scary stories and monsters do not share physical contact with beautiful girls. Resigning himself to his miserable fate, Erik forcefully pushed the door open. The girl stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttered in semi-consciousness. Erik held his breath as she looked up at him in confusion.

"Erik?" she muttered. She unsuccessfully grabbed at his lapels with clumsy hands and closed her eyes once more, resting her head on his shoulder as she fell back into a fitful sort of sleep.

Erik felt as if his heart had stopped for a moment and then was beating faster than ever. He turned back to the passageway and out of the light. Once back in his own world he set the girl down. His mind was racing. All of it was impossible! Impossible! Erik paced back and forth, keeping his eyes fixed on the mass he had deposited unceremoniously on the floor. He was quite excited, but incredibly disturbed by the events taking place, and could not think clearly enough to make logical sense of it or determine the best course of action.

The girl moaned softly, alerting him of the pressing need to take some course of action. He reminded himself that her health was at stake and decided immediately that it would be best to keep her close by until he had time to think of a better plan. He scooped her up and headed downwards at far swifter pace than he had brought her up at.

Erik went straight to work once he arrived: he set the girl on a deep red couch and covered her with every blanket he possessed, started a fire in the fireplace nearby, and set a kettle on it.

He gently roused the girl, "You have had enough rest my dear. I think some warm tea will do you good."

She timidly took the cup he offered her. "Slowly," he warned as she pressed it to her lips. She nodded and closed her eyes as she sipped at it. She silently handed the cup back to him and he just as silently took it away. When he returned she was asleep once again. He studied her face as she dozed and tried to decide how she knew his name.


	11. Chapter 11

The few hours before dawn were the only ones that were ever quiet at the gypsy's camp. This morning however, a soft sobbing could be heard from the wagon in which the wild animals that served as attractions were kept. Natalie had been told to keep far from this wagon or a wolf might eat her up or the devil's child might steal her soul. The little gypsy rag-a-muffin had never been one to listen to such warnings. She had been frightened enough to keep her distance, but what is forbidden is also what is enticing, and curiosity was one of her primary faults.

Her father was passed out in a drunken stupor and it was a simple matter for his child to leave the tent without rousing him. She crept quietly towards the piteous crying and almost forgot to be afraid as she opened the creaky latch to the wagon. It smelled terrible inside. A number of cages were situated inside and things with glowing eyes surveyed the plump little child hungrily. One cage, however, contained a boy instead of an animal, and it was from this enclosure that the sobs were issuing.

"Why are you crying?" Natalie whispered to the boy.

The sounds stopped immediately and the boy looked up suddenly and glared at her. He did not say anything but stared with eyes that glowed in a manner similar to the wolves around him. Natalie was not intimidated however, the boy wasn't much older than she was and he was locked away besides.

"Who are you?" She furthered. It did not make sense to her to find a child locked away with the animals, "What are you doing in there?"

"Haven't they told you I'm the devil's child?" the boy hissed.

"You are not!" Natalie said indignantly, "The devil's child has scaly skin and a tail and horns…"

The boy interrupted her with a half-hearted chuckle.

Natalie was angry that he was laughing at her and taking her for a fool. She made a motion to leave, but the boy suddenly spoke again with a kind of desperation, "Don't you think I am frightening?"

Natalie looked at him seriously, something was covering his face and there were long gashes over much of his body. She suddenly realized why he must have been crying, and forgot his question. "That must really hurt! Let me get you some bandages!"

"No," the boy replied, "Please don't leave. What's your name?"

"Natalie, what's yours?"

"I don't have one."

"How can you not have a name?"

"I just don't."

"Well then, I'll have to give you one. Let's see…." The girl pondered for a while as she stared at him. He seemed suddenly self conscious and turned away after a moment.

"I'll call you Erik," She announced with a tone of finality.

"Erik…" He mused.

The boy in the cage accepted Natalie's appellation and she continued to visit him whenever the rest of the camp was asleep. Erik was starved for attention, but was also often aloof. Many times he simply sang to her. Natalie had never heard a more beautiful sound in her life, and loved listening to him. After a while, Erik convinced Natalie to sing as well, though she was very shy about it. She did her best to mimic his sweet notes and he helped her perfect each song. They sang many gypsy melodies, but Erik made up even more songs each night. Natalie still didn't quite understand that strange boy in the cage with the burlap over his face, but she loved him all the same and did everything he told her to. She didn't mention him to the adults and she was always as careful to avoid the wagon during the day.


	12. Chapter 12

Natalie awoke to the soft strains of a violin. She groggily examined her surroundings, not understanding where she was. The cavernous room was lit by a multitude of candles which flickered and danced off the surface of what appeared to be an underground lake. Natalie was lying upon a velvet couch, with a dozen silky blankets draped over her. The room was filled with a sort of beautiful chaos. Paintings, fabrics, old props, and a multitude of instruments were strewn about or piled up throwing strange shadows over the stone walls. It seemed to Natalie that she had woken in some sort of strange dream. Slowly she realized that she recognized the melody that was playing and instinctively began to sing.

_Darkest dreams, haunted shadows_

_I wander through endless night_

_Seeking warmth seeking kindness_

_Seeking your eternal light_

_Lost and weary, Cold and worn_

_Death is still my only friend_

_Shall I find another heart_

_To beat beside mine 'fore the end?_

Natalie rose and followed the mysterious sound of the violin as a familiarly haunting voice joined Natalie's. They sang in unison, Natalie and the hidden violinist, as if mutually enchanted by the strange melody.

_Purest angel singing softly_

_Are you lonely as this heart?_

_Could you cast yourself into the shadows_

_To end the aching of one's heart?_

_Darkest dreams, haunted shadows_

_I wander through endless night_

_Seeking warmth seeking kindness_

_Seeking your eternal light_

Natalie gasped as a cold hand fell upon her shoulder, and she spun around to face Erik. His half-masked face betrayed no emotion, but there was something implacable in his sharp green eyes. Natalie remembered the same unreadable expression on the small boy she used to care for more than any other. She knew Erik didn't care to be stared at, but she could hardly help it… He had become so… tall and, had she not known what lay behind the mask, she would have thought him very handsome.

"You cannot be real. You are a figment of my imagination, a delusion, proof of my madness," Erik murmured, a certain pain piercing his lovely voice. He stared back a Natalie, the ghost, a phantom like himself, and fought to hold back the tears that threatened to seep from his eyes. Natalie shed them for him, and gently grabbed his hand, raised it to her flushed cheek, and offering up its warmth as proof of her existence.

"Erik, It's me, it's Natalie," She whispered, "I feared you were dead as well. I've been so afraid for so long."


End file.
